


That's Me in the Spotlight

by nights



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, earth doesn't exist in star wars but it does in this idfk go with it, get ready for angsty rey, they on a rando planet DONT QUESTION ME, this is like....... au but not au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 17:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8293373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights/pseuds/nights
Summary: His smile was warm, like the jazz that was still playing.  The drums sizzled, the woman from a hundred years ago sang about things I dreamed of.  The bar had never felt this comfortable, and I didn’t like it.





	

The bar’s thin, parched air made my eyes scream for some moisture, but I stayed put on that cracked vinyl bar stool.The whiskey went down my throat like water.It was nothing compared to some of the native stuff, bitter and syrupy, and guaranteed to get you fucked up after one gulp.Little human metabolisms aren’t built for it, apparently, but that didn’t stop it from going for top dollar down on Earth.

I nursed my whiskey in silence for a long time.Bars were always a human sort of thing, so I could only spot one native in the joint.A couple other humans scattered the booths, here and there.It was late in the night, after all the party girls had found a party boy to go home with for the night, and only the sad ones were left.Sad, or tired.I fell into the latter category.

I rubbed under my eye, sure that I looked like a low-grade prostitute with my low-end makeup smudged dark.I resolved to go check in the bathroom once I finished my whiskey.

The cup drained, I gathered my bag up and stood from my perch.The world was fuzzier than when I walked into the bar, and better.My reflection in the bathroom mirror, however, was not.I cleaned off most of my makeup haphazardly with some paper towels and water, sighing and rubbing my face.It was time to head home, leave the yellow-toned lights of the bar for my little apartment on the edge of the human quarter.

As I was walking from the restroom in the back to the bar door, I heard a voice from the bar.

“On your tab?” the bartender called.

It took me a moment to react.He was one I’d never seen before; usually a man with leathery skin and a taste for hundred-year-old rock music manned the bar in the wee hours.I approached the bar again, pulling out my wallet to pay the bill.

“Sorry about that,” I laughed, the mirth coming easy to my voice with the whiskey in my system.“I guess I had more than I thought and the bill just slipped my mind.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he rumbled.“I’m sure you’ll be back.”He wiped the counter down languidly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I fired back, consonants blurring in my speech.His comment was just enough to set me off; I always was a touchy drunk.I wasn’t drunk, though.I swear, I wasn’t.

The bartender looked up, straightened slowly.He paused.

“Just that folks who’re here this late usually come around a lot.”

“Uh huh.You don’t know anything about me, _sir_.”I gripped the shoulder strap of my bag tighter. _Get ahold of yourself._

He chuckled.“You’re right, I don’t.My apologies.”He nodded in acquiescence and went back to cleaning up.

_ You’re fighting with a bartender, pull it together Rey. _

I turned and left the bar.The air was still dry as sand, as always, but was rapidly cooling off.A welcome break from the blistering day — getting to work had been torture.

~ * ~ * * * ~ * ~

The bar bathroom always smelled faintly of vomit, but I liked it that way.  It was almost familiar, and honestly smelled better than the bathroom at work.  The natives really knew how to leave a lasting stench.

I assessed my reflection.My hair was sweaty from a long night, the hairspray-coated curls rebelling against their heat-imposed shapes.I pulled them up into a ponytail, tucking a few stray hairs behind my ears.Makeup wipes did the rest of the work; it was a miracle I’d been able to find them.I’d had to go store to store looking for a place that carried them.There weren’t that many in the human quarter, let alone well-stocked ones, so my search had taken a couple hours — but, blissfully, bore fruit.Having those makeup wipes had changed my life.Or, more accurately, my skin’s life.Under the sickly fluorescent lighting of the bathroom mirror, my pores were positively screaming for a breath of fresh air.

Refreshed by the makeup wipes and their artificial cucumber scent, I exited the bathroom and slid into my usual seat, the third one from the left on the side by the door.Jazz played low on the speakers — a departure from the usual fare.

I looked around for the bartender, searching for the grizzled face that I knew so well, that dispensed my whiskey so reliably.  The door to the back squeaked open.  _That bartender from last week._   He grasped a bottle of dark liquor in each hand.

I caught his eye and raised my chin.He arched an eyebrow, but stocked the bar shelves with his two bottles before ambling over to me.The bar wasn’t busy.

“The usual?” he asked.  He acted like he didn’t remember me; did he get cranky late-night customers that often?

“You don’t even know what my usual is,” I mused.“You new?”

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with big dark eyes.Looked too young to be turning to bartending as a viable career option.

“No, I’m not new.”The corner of his mouth quirked up.“Well, new to this day of the week.”

“New to Thursdays.  Never experienced a Thursday before?”

He actually laughed a little at that.“New to working Thursdays.Usually I’m Monday Tuesday Wednesdays and Saturdays.”He leaned his hands on the bar.“What’s your usual, then?”

“Whiskey neat.”

“Basic,” he commented.He turned to select a whiskey.“Montie’s okay?”

“Didn’t know we had brands now,” I quipped.

“I know, someone finally started a local distillery.”He poured the drink, set the glass in front of me.“Whiskey neat for the lady.”

“ _Lady?_ ” I teased.“Why thank you, kind sir.”My British accent was horrible.It sounded nothing like they spoke it on Earth.

“I’m at your service.”He grinned, bowing slightly.I laughed into my glass and decided I liked him better than Hugo.Hugo never bantered, he usually just grumbled to himself as he puttered about the bar.

I said as much to this new bartender.

“Thanks for the glowing review.  Excuse me a moment,” he murmured, leaving to tend to another customer, seating several seats down. 

I sucked down the whiskey.It wasn’t the best I’d ever had, but at least Montie — whoever Montie was — seemed like he knew what he was doing.It was good to know that there might be one thing we didn’t need to import from Earth or the nearby planets anymore.If Montie could get his little distillery booming.

The new bartender didn’t seem new, upon further observation.He moved around the bar like he’d grown quite used to the dimensions, like he knew the disorganization well.The jazz eased through the speakers.The new bartender’s hair fell in his face and he pushed it back, only for the black locks to fall once again.It made me suddenly aware of a loose lock falling into my own vision.It had escaped from its ponytail.I pushed it behind my ear and drained the remaining whiskey.

I caught the new bartender’s eye and he sidled over.“Already?”

“Don’t give me that,” I smirked.The whiskey was warm in my chest and I liked the look of those eyes.

“No judgement.”He filled my glass.

“Right.”I took a new sip.“So what’s your name, new guy?”

“Kylo.”He drummed his fingers on the bar.

“Kylo,” I said, sounding the name out in my mouth.“Kylo the bartender.”

“Yeah, Kylo the bartender,” he echoed.“Now, since I don’t know anything about you, what’s your name?I believe that’s how you put it to me the other night.”

I realized I was leaning towards him over the bar and shifted, leaning back against the barstool’s backrest.

“Alright, I’m sorry about that night.Rough day at work.”

“It’s okay.”

I looked down, swirled the whiskey in my glass.“My name’s Rey.”

“Rey.Rey the…?”

I guessed he wanted me to fill in my occupation.My hand tensed around the whiskey glass.

“Rey the writer.”I looked up into his face again.Not a lie.

He smiled slightly.“Anything I could have read?”

“No, it’s not like I’m famous or anything.” Also not a lie.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see your name on something soon.”  His smile was warm, like the jazz that was still playing.  The drums sizzled, the woman from a hundred years ago sang about things I dreamed of.  The bar had never felt this comfortable, and I didn’t like it.

“On my tab,” I said quickly.I slid my glass to him and rose.

The new bartender nodded.Kylo — Kylo nodded.That was his name.I caught myself imagining that he watched me as I left.

~ * ~ * * * ~ * ~

It was Thursday and Hugo, in all his cantankerous glory, was back puttering around the bar.I put away several whiskeys listening to his rock music and wishing it was jazz.The liquid in my glass didn’t go down as smooth without the quiet piano and the quiet bartender in the background.I picked dirt from under my lacquered nails and tried not to think about it too hard.

**Author's Note:**

> WELCOME TO ANGST. yes the title is from losing my religion because i'm horrible at titles and i usually just pick a lyric from the song that happens to be playing on spotify at the moment i upload something SO
> 
> i know this is the shortest thing ever and almost doesn't count as a chapter but I'll be posting another chapter in a hot second lmao


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